Black Innocence
by Synthetic Voice
Summary: Some interesting character interaction, and a MUCH better death scene for our antagonist, Lord Lucien Fairfax. Enjoy.


I suppose to understand him I had to feel his pain.

It certainly didn't make me hate him any less.

Let me start from the beginning, and perhaps then even I will understand the reason for my actions. It was not with hate that I killed him, but another reason that eludes me to this day.

* * *

The first time I met Lord Lucien Fairfax face to face was on the eve of my sister's death. We had searched for coin to purchase a magical item that was said to grant one wish to the owner; my sister, dear Rose, had wished to live in a palace as fine and grand as the lord's. Orphans we were, never knowing our own parents. We were all each other had, and though Rose cared for me as best she could, oft times it fell upon me to care for us both. I protected her, for I was the younger and stronger, while she in her beauty was hounded by the boys and pimps of our neighborhood. I did all that I could to keep her safe, but even I cannot stop a speeding bullet.

Once we had acquired the music box, and my sister's wish had been made (though the box disappeared with little more than light and a song, we thinking it had not been of magic but simply of trickery), in the middle of the night we were summoned to the lord's estate. In the darkness, we were stunned at our sudden fortune and made haste with the guards to our meeting. Never did we think it was anything more than blind luck.

Let me speak of the nature of my lord Lucien – once he was a good man, a sane man. He had a wife, a wonderful lady who was kind hearted and beautiful, and a splendid little newborn daughter. Our land was peaceful, for most, and Lucien did what he could to ease the lives of those who were not as fortunate as he. I fear he did it more for his wife's sake than for the people, but who cares the reason? It seemed that stability was on the horizon.

And then they died, pulled away like leaves in the wind without the slightest notice. I heard it was the infant daughter who took ill first, and then the wife, who refused to leave her babe's side. The kingdom held its breath while it waited for news of their lord's business, but within the week a double funeral was held for the beloved women. The kind works stopped; the land fell into turmoil of its own making; and Lucien was not to be seen again. He stayed within the castle walls, doing what no one had any idea. But I found a clue that night.

He invited us into his library, greeting us cordially as we had never been greeted before. Street urchins, we were unused to this sort of life. Our appearance made us stand out the worse for it – dressed in naught but rags, surely smelling like day old garbage, our hair in knots. Still, even though we were poorly dressed, my sister's beauty shone out like a beacon – truly she was named well. I can not speak for myself, for I had little use for vanity or mirrors, and my sister was too worried over the state of our bodies than to worry about my complexion. But Lucien has an eye for beauty, and he addressed my sister so. Normally, this would be unseemly, but she knew little difference between the affections of a lord than those of a pimp. I knew, but he was of nobility! What was I to do to protect my Rose from this new threat?

He asked of us the music box we had acquired. Rose stumbled over herself, stating that after we had purchased it, we wound it tight and made our wish – the box had given off a glow and sung a little, but then vanished into thin air. Lucien listened to her words carefully, nodding encouragingly and ending with a smile that assured her she had done nothing to displease him. After studying her for a moment, he entreated her to step upon a platform near a magnificent stained glass window at the far end of the room. She did so without complaint – I was slower to oblige.

"My dear, you have nothing to fear; of that I can assure you," Lucien spoke, low in tone. His brow furrowed as he approached me. I, a girl of no more than nine, and he, a man of twenty something years who had known love and loss – there was an abyss between us that would soon be filled. Far too soon.

"C'mon, little sparrow! Listen to the lord, now," my sister cautioned, trying to coax me into the same compliant mood as her. But I stood frozen on the spot as Lucien approached me. He was a striking man, dark of hair and eye, his skin grown pale from so many days away from the sun. Fit in person and dressed to his station, anyone would've found him intimidating.

"Little sparrow? Is that what they call you?" I could do naught to reply as he reached out a hand to cup my chin, though my face was already raised to his in youthful defiance. A stray finger crept along one of my cheeks, feeling the smooth, taut skin there as our eyes met. It would not be the last time.

"Sister!" My Rose hissed at me, and I dashed away from Lucien before I knew myself to do something rash. He found himself shortly and moved back to his desk, whereupon a peaceful blue light began to emanate from the pedestal we were standing upon.

"It is so…you are of the blood…" Lucien whispered, more to himself than to us. He looked up, glancing at my sister but his eyes lingered on me for a longer moment. He moved around his desk, reaching out towards the light…as his fingers brushed it, the blue flashed to a startling blood red color, and Lucien shied away, hissing his displeasure.

"No…no! This isn't right…you aren't of the three…but one of you…one of you…" He continued to mummer to himself, rooting through his desk for something. Paper? A writing implement? Suddenly my heart dropped to my stomach, and I tensed my legs to run. My sister, slower than I to detect danger, merely waited docilely as Lucien withdrew a loaded pistol from his desk drawers and aimed it at her heart.

"One of you is the fourth," he finished, condemnation in his tone though we had no idea of what he spoke. I had taken but one step, the cry broken in my throat before it was born. The shot was fast, and my Rose was laid out on the pedestal as though it were her burial pyre. My eyes wide in horror, I looked upon her dead form before looking up at Lucien. Anger and hatred filled my veins, and I screamed aloud, throwing myself towards him. Sooner than I could move, the second bullet left the chamber, catching me just above the heart, throwing me backwards.

Backwards and out, shattering the beautiful stained glass window, and into the dark.

* * *

I survived that night, and that fall. It became obvious that little could be done to deter me from my wishes and my duties. After that night, I found succor and something of a home with a strange woman by the name of Theresa – she was the same woman who had convinced my sister and me to purchase the magic box. She took me to the gypsy camp, where I spent my recovery. Of the gypsy clans, Theresa was blind and yet could see so much that had happened in the past as well as what was to come in the future.

Now she came to my aide, telling me of my true heritage and how I was slated to save the kingdom from Lucien's insanity. She healed my wounds, taught me what she could of magic, the sword, and the pistol. Reuniting me with my one companion, my faithful dog Mephisto, she told me what needed to be done so that I might enact my revenge upon the one who had killed my life's sole purpose and love. I was by blood descendent a Hero, and it was my destiny to acquire the three Heroes of prophecy – the Hero of Strength, the Hero of Skill, and the Hero of Will.

The easiest of the three was the Hero of Strength, though she was a great aid to me in my adventures – she was the one who kept my anger in check, she was the one who offered the support of losing a loved one; her own father slain by one of Lucien's soldiers before I recruited her to my cause. The second I had to acquire was the Hero of Will, and here was the second time I encountered Lucien.

* * *

Ten years had passed, and Lucien had given himself a monumental task. He strove to rebuild the Spire, a horrid tower that used magic to grant the user one massive wish – it was said that when the Spire had first been built and used, the asker had wished for a new world free of evil and corruption. Rumors spread that this was Lucien's same wish; but in the wake of the construction, hundreds were dying every day and more men and women were brought from across Albion to aid in the construction according to Lucien's will. It was said that the Hero of Will, a man who had once served Lucien without restraint, was now being held captive as a traitor.

I found my way into the tower as a voluntary worker – in that terrible place I spent another ten years of my life in captivity. Unwittingly I brought myself to the notice of Lucien due to my…cruel nature. Thoughts of bitterness had twisted my heart and I abused my strength and power, doing whatever I needed to gain my retribution. These acts, especially without Hammer, the Hero of Strength, beside me to chasten me, grew more pitiless within the confines of this structure. I rose through the ranks of military, seeking nothing – not fame, riches, or power: simply the chance to destroy Lucien. Of course, the prophecy was not to be outdone and Lucien made note of the strong woman named Sparrow who was giving him so much aid freely.

One evening I was invited to Lucien's private chambers in the Spire. My heart beat fast within my breast that I might have a chance, a moment of opportunity, to bring to fruition the anxiety that twelve long years of waiting had given birth to. But my vengeance had turned me into something weak-minded, and I fear that was the cause of my undoing.

I entered his chambers with all purpose, standing erect and in full uniform. My weapons had been laid aside at the door and the collar around my neck prevented the use of magic. But as a Hero by blood, my strength would be more than enough to overcome a simple man, enough to crush his spine or break him. All I needed, all I wanted, were my own two hands. His apartments were as beautiful as the library where I had first met him – and the same man, now twelve years older, white in his dark locks, stood with his back to me while looking over papers on his desk. A moment took my thoughts, and I edged into the room without announcement, thinking to take him in surprise and have done with all of it. It would take but a moment, a moment; a moment of time was all that it had taken to remove my Rose, and all it would take to remove his life.

My feet were never so sure, yet my hands trembled with excitement at the thought. But, though a Hero I was, I was still young and naïve. I thought I knew of cruelty. I had no idea.

The minute my hands came within a hair of him, he spun, hitting me in the face squarely with one strong punch, distorting my senses long enough for him to take hold of my hair, pushing me down to my knees and slamming my head into the hard wood desk that was before him. Still clutching my hair, he pulled back my head with a quick motion and placed a blade on my throat like a necklace. This all took a matter of moments – I had been undone by a simple move, a simple twist that I should have expected. My face twisted into a grimace of hate, staring at him without regret.

"'Tis true, then. 'Tis the sparrow who would've taken my life all those years ago," he murmured, his eyes meeting mine, my face raised in defiance.

"I would have had little thought for you, had you not taken from me the one thing that was mine in this world," I hissed back, gritting my teeth at the pain of my hair being pulled taut, from the sweet promise the knife would assure where the bullet had failed. He laughed aloud at my comment, digging the blade in deeper so I could feel a thin cut start its way into my neck. I gave him no compliance – I did not cry out, I did nothing but return his gaze with all of the vile thoughts I could amass, wishing my magic at my fingertips. Without restraint, I called upon the lightning and instead felt a strong shock coming from my collar. Because of the size of magic I had called upon, the shock was agonizing, bending me over and finally causing me to cry out in torment.

"I should kill you now – I had thought you dead all these years, along with your sister. It seems you are what she was not; perhaps I needn't have bothered with her at all." My hands clutched at the collar, barely heeding his words. Still my eyes were locked on his, unblinking hatred willing its way into him.

"Yes…it is obvious you will not let me live…but I think…it would be more victorious for me…to break," at this he placed the blade against my cheek, carving a line down it with slow precision, "to break one with such a will. Added to that, I have heard you know of the Hero of Strength, as well as the Hero of Skill. Yes, I think you are of more use to me alive than dead." With that, he called in a guard and had me stripped of my title and place in his military. I was placed in a cell, naught in my possession but the clothes on my back and the collar about my neck. The only saving regard was that my cell was next to that of Garth, the Hero of Will. Perhaps Lucien had planned this – it seemed far too contrived for him to have made such a mistake other than on purpose.

The cell walls were clear, made of magic glass to contain prisoners with ease. Garth was crouching in a corner, legs crossed and hands relaxed. Looking to be meditating, his eyes were closed and his body looked at peace. How could he, in such a place as this? How could anyone in these times? I pulled my battered body over to one wall of the cell and pounded on it feebly with one hand, attempting to gain his attention, but he ignored me. Perhaps he thought me simply another convict, another failure in the attempt to stop Lucien's madness. Little did it matter regardless.

* * *

I spent a month alone in the cell. The only time I had contact with another was when the guards brought around our daily rations. I grabbed at the food like an animal, fully given in to my instincts. What use did I have for decorum? I was a lost cause, a failure to my destiny. Still, I kept attempting to contact Garth, pounding on the walls and trying to shout even though all sound was muffled between cells. It was useless.

One day, Lucien ordered me brought to his chambers. This time I was a prisoner, hands tied behind my back and made to kneel before him. Whether he took pleasure in this scene I could not fathom, for he took one glance at me, and told the guards to leave. He had his back turned to me, bending over his desk with intense study of some paper.

After a minute, he turned back to me, studying my face. I had grown much leaner in the scant month spent in his prison cells, and my hair was long, down over my face. Still I met his eyes with my own, the same burning hatred there to greet him. With the flat side of his open hand he struck my face, slamming with such force that blood welled up in my mouth. Unperturbed, as soon as I gained control of myself again, I was staring defiantly at him.

"I expected nothing less to break you. That shows promise," he said at length, walking around me like studying a mare at the county fair. If he moved to check my teeth, I would bite with all I was worth. Instead, he ran a hand down the side of my face, gently tugging at my deep brown locks that were quickly dreading.

"You look like her. Your sister, I mean. The pretty one." I didn't flinch at this remark, only growing more heated with anger.

"Perhaps I should have kept her, rather than doing away with her. After all, she was the more docile of the two. Perhaps she would have made a decent bed warmer." I gritted my teeth, struggling not to throw myself at him. What would I do with my hands tied? He would kill me in an instant, but the remark was such an insult I could barely stand it.

"Yes, she was something of a simpleton; that much I could ascertain. But you, you on the other hand. Fire; that is what you are made of. Sadly, you burn at the touch," he pulled his hand away, turning his back to me. With that, he sent me back to my cell, where it was all I could do to continue my attempts to reach Garth, to plot our escape.

I spent a year in the cell. Occasionally Lucien would stroll by, on the claim he was checking the perimeter, but I knew he was waiting for the day I would give him what he wanted: everything. After time had passed, and he saw that my will was just as strong, he began to implement new measures. I would receive meals once a week instead of once a day, and in their place now I would be brought out to work. The overseers were given leave to be especially harsh with me, and soon my back bore many a lash wound because of my attempts at insurrection. Another year past, and once more I was called to his chambers. Again I was made to kneel, and again he ordered the guards to leave us. He studied me carefully, as though trying to perceive what made me continue in my rebellion.

"I see something…of myself…in you," he finally spoke. My face was impassive – emotion had long since left me at that point. There was nothing left for me, not in this life, except for my one goal. My eyes still met his, because they would never leave the sight of their ambition. And still he never flinched away from that fact, instead fascinated with it as is the moth to the flame. He leaned back against the same oak desk, against which he had smashed my face only two years earlier. Fresher wounds were still healing on my back, but that action was the second mark he had ever left on me. First, a bullet wound. Second, a broken nose. Third, the endless lashings. My mind kept tally of these things, so that I might repay him back in kind.

Watching my reaction, he paused, then stepped forward to place both of his hands on the sides of my face. Now we stared directly into each other – he aged badly, though the man could barely be into his thirties. I, now twenty and one years, was certain I looked as I felt, or worse. Even though that same abyss still separated us, I could understand his meaning. We both had the same will, the same drive towards what we desired. At one time, for him that had been the return of his family, but somewhere down the path he had veered off sharply. Whether that was because of the abuse of power or of his own corruption I was not sure, nor was I sure that I cared. Myself…I knew my sister could never be brought back. All that was left to me was to destroy this man in front of me.

And after that? There was nothing. Blackness, a void. Suddenly I realized where Lucien had been, ten years ago. The loss of something so precious, something so dear, to drive one to this brink of insanity. Was that my path as well? Though instead of the destruction of hundreds…I strove only for my own destruction. I knew this to be a lie, for I had taken countless lives through the townships across Albion, my apathy making me heedless to any idea of mercy. I had killed just as thoughtlessly as he, and for the same reasons. But now…now Lucien strove to do something different with his plan. To change the world from this recklessness, to stop the sudden interference of unknown forces. Of unlucky fate, unheeded choice. Lucien must have read these thoughts in my face, through my eyes.

"You see. You see what I am trying to do, to accomplish," he exclaimed quietly, as though he could barely believe another would ever conceive of his ideas. I pulled back from him, trying to release myself from his hands.

"But at what cost, Lucien? These lives! These _people_!" He gripped my face tighter, kneeling down in front of me on the floor so we were face to face.

"They are the ants I crush under my heel so that a better race will live. Those more deserving than these commoners, these _criminals_! I am creating a world that will be something _more!_" The intensity of his madness hit me in that moment – his words, his face, his eyes spoke of it more truly than any rumor. Every person who drew breath while his own family was dead was a thief, a burglar who stole the life that should've been theirs. This was a good man, turned not to evil but to an ambition that was out of human reach; turned to paranoia and madness from unrestrained grief. Suddenly I felt renewed in my fate, closer than ever to reaching my destiny. And I knew how I would go to achieve it.

"Let me help you, Lucien. Let me lend my strength to you, so that all might understand what you are striving for!" My new fervor shook him from his revelation and he regarded me warily. Surely this was a trick – it was too much for one to comprehend him, too much for comprehension _and_ willingness! I met his gaze, never shying away from what I realized what my true destiny was.

"Perhaps it shall be so. I will have you train under my best commander, the Commandant. You will do everything as he says. If he finds you lacking in anything…I will have no more use for you." He watched my face carefully as he said these words, watching for the slightest hesitation or misgiving, but I lied with my features thoroughly. I had him convinced, and I would not squander this chance to redeem my failures, my past, to wash the blood from my hands.

I spent three years under the Commandant's command, a horrid mutant that was created out of Garth's and Lucien's experimentation while attempting to control and manipulate magic. He was a powerful man, and I took the time to study him carefully so that when the time came, I would have to exert little effort in doing away with him. Once I had gained his favor, I was able to come and go as I pleased throughout the construction of the Spire. I put myself in charge of the cells, eventually finding a way and a time to contact Garth.

To my utter surprise, this second Hero was fully aware of my presence and of my actions.

"I know you, Hero," his voice was rough from years of disuse. Still he had not moved from his position in the corner, legs folded and arms relaxed.

"Give me more time – then we shall be able to escape." And so that was what I set my mind to, in order to withstand the horrors of the dreadful Spire. Everywhere, people were dying: starvation, exhaustion, torture. This, for the betterment of all? I need not state what it felt like to me. The last three years of my duty in the Spire moved just as slowly as the first seven, but this time I was in better standing. I studied under the Commandant, and spoke at length with Lucien, though he was always careful to never reveal too much to me – instead he constantly tried to make me divulge the whereabouts of the other Heroes.

Finally, one day I came upon Garth. He bade me come closer to his cell, and to my surprise, released my collar. Despite being in favor, the collar was never removed and the only person in the Spire who never wore one was Lucien himself. Even the Commandant wore one that only Lucien could command. I opened his cell with my renewed magic, and those in the same block, and we made our escape. Compared to the time spent in the Spire itself, our flight seems trivial. The only remarkable feat accomplished therein was the defeat and killing of the Commandant, which I completed without remorse. The man was responsible for the death of hundreds, and a strange abomination of nature at that. Once he was defeated, we took a ship and left the Spire in the same manner we had come to it.

* * *

It is easy to hate when one has little knowledge of the subject – there are many differences one can draw, and space to be shoved between you and the object of your abhorrence. But now I knew of the pain of his loss and understood his deadly ambition. From my childhood, I remembered the kind, good man he had been when he still had something to hold on to. There were too many parallels I could draw – it disturbed me too much to continue fanning the flames of a hatred that now bore no reason. But I had little time to dwell upon this, for the next and last Hero awaited me.

The Hero of Skill was perhaps one of the more difficult to convince, for he was an arrogant bastard. Tasks to convince him to join, and then his betrayal twice fold was taxing enough to make anyone want to kill the man. Too bad he had bought immortality from the shadows long ago.

A contingent of Spire soldiers attacked us on the isle we found the third Hero, but together we were able to overcome them. It seemed that all at last was coming together, and we returned to the sanctuary Theresa said our powers would combine, giving me the strength, skill, and will to defeat Lucien. This was the third time I faced him, only this time we were both even more changed.

* * *

We stood atop the hill, in the midst of Albion, each in their place. I stood in the center, preparing to receive the power of the Heroes, ready to shoulder and bear the weight of the responsibility about to be bestowed upon me. The ceremony was begun – and then Theresa was gone. Lucien had found us, soldiers stormed the sacred area capturing the Heroes I had worked long to collect, and then he was before me, raising a pistol to my heart. No words exchanged – though it seemed longer, it was all over in mere moments. The shot of the gun was loud, and then Mephisto, the best of my companions, was dead at my feet. My Rose…my companion…must I lose all as he did in order to complete my destiny? Lucien seemed taken aback at my hound's sudden act of loyalty, but his sudden remorse did not cause him to put down the gun.

"In some ways, I am sorry to do this, Sparrow. You…could have been…mine. But it is only one betrayal for another." He cocked the gun, making sure his aim was true. "I do regret killing your sister. That was so long ago, and you were only a child – but then, so was I."

And then he killed me.

* * *

Death is not a new experience to me – during my travels I have had many close encounters, and even this was not the first time Lucien had raised a hand in enmity against me. But this…this was new.

I awoke as a child, in a farmhouse in a small country town. Rose, my Rose, my dear sister Rose was standing over me, chiding me to wake before the sun got too far into the sky. It seemed…a perfect world.

We spent the day exploring the farm – the fields were full of ripe grain, the rivers were clear and ran smoothly, and the day was as perfect as they come. It seemed that I had awoken from a horrible nightmare to a world where I belonged. I had my beloved sister back, a home, safety and security. The strife of the world was far from us. This was a place where I would be content.

Then that same night as I fell asleep in my bed, assured that tomorrow would be the same as that day, and the next, and the one after. Forever it would be the same!

That was when I heard the music. It was the same music that had come from the music box, the one we had learned of from the traveling salesman, the one we had scrounged coin for to purchase. The root of the trouble, loss, and hatred in my life. Covering my ears for a moment, I willed it away, my small hands covering my ears with ease as I snuggled deeper into my covers. Instead the sound grew louder, and then I heard my sister's voice.

"Mind not the noise, little sparrow." I sat up from my bed, but I could not see her. Everything around me suddenly lost its glamour, and I remembered what had happened.

"Sparrow! Please, stay with me!" _She is dead_, I reminded myself, and threw back the covers. The sound was coming from the far side of the field, and it was calling to me.

"Please! I'm scared, Sparrow!" But I was heedless to her words – fate had thrown her away a long time ago, and I had killed in her name. This was not my reward; this was a farce, an ugly play upon which I would smear my hopes and dreams reborn. I followed the sound over the bridge, and that was where the dream ended and the nightmare began.

Bodies, everywhere. Blood coated the ground like a fresh rainfall, and fire lit up the sky in a stark contrast to the world I had just left. Having no time nor will for pause, I hurried through the no man's land towards the sound, finding footing amongst the limbs and scarred faces of the dead. It seemed endless.

And there, on the pedestal, was the small box playing fervently as though it were unsure I could hear it. I reached out, touching the lid with my small hand.

I woke up.

* * *

"You have passed your trial, little sparrow." My sister's voice wound around me in the darkness, a comforting blanket in this sudden void. I was holding the box in my hands, and as I looked upon it, I noted that my hands were aging. The rest of me followed, going through all I had been as a child, through to adulthood until I was where I had been when Lucien had shot me. The presence of my sister told me of what lay ahead, and what I must now do.

* * *

Suddenly I was at the Spire, moving my way through the soldiers.

Suddenly I was in the room, Lucien's chamber.

Suddenly I was before him, amidst them, standing on the platform built in imitation of Theresa's hill sanctuary.

I held the music box in my hands, and Hammer and Garth gasped audibly to see my arrival. Reaver had never much cared for any of this, but I only had eyes towards my ambition: Lucien. Opening the box, I took the power from him, from Hammer, from Garth, from Reaver. I put it all away, far away where it would be of no use to anyone, no danger. Lucien screamed in frustration at my last betrayal, his face a grimace of death for a man so driven by selfish want.

Stepping forward towards him, I laid one hand against his aged features, feeling the tired flesh rough beneath my palm. Once he had been a striking man, full of life and vitality with the whole world before him. Pulled down by misfortune and his own lofty aspirations, it was a shell of his former self that stood before me, desiring to wound me for causing the failure of all his dreams.

"You poor, poor man," I whispered, my eyes meeting his in defiance of my hatred. Calling on my magic, I whispered a spell of illusion.

"See in me a portrait of your Helena," and as I whispered these words, his face fell from anger and hatred, to confusion, to shock and joy. I smiled on him, and kissed him. Our lips pressed gently together – no lust, no hate, no spite. Just goodbye.

As we pulled apart, Helena was gone into him, and he saw me for who I was, am, would be: Sparrow, the murderer, Sparrow, the redeemed, Sparrow, the liberator. Perhaps his Sparrow, but we would never know, for we were both long past our lives and our chances. Eyes wide with comprehension, he opened his mouth to say something – but I will never know what it was, for at that moment I called the lightning through the one hand still touching his face. As gently as I could, I let the light course through his form until the muscles relaxed in final entropy. The man who had killed hundreds, who had sought the destruction of the world, fell from his lofty perch, into the dark below.

The instant after Lucien's death, Theresa appeared to offer me my redemption. Unsurprised that she would be the one awarding such, I resurrected everyone who died in the making of the Spire, sacrificing my own hopes and dreams in denying the revival of my beloved sister and companion. No – let no more bloodshed be upon my hands.

Even after the moment had passed, even after I had completed my destiny, I still felt hollow. There seemed to be nothing left for me, except that I had to confront the woman who had been manipulating me all along.

* * *

"I know it was you, Theresa." Her sightless eyes looked out at me from under her red and white hood. Either she was considering responding me, or allowing me to revel in my victory. I cared not, a sudden desire for solitude taking me.

"I knew you would eventually figure it out, Sparrow. However, it's far too late now." And with a smile, she banished all of us from her newly constructed Spire. There was no telling what she might use it for.

Now a new threat hangs over Albion, and the last blood of an innocent man corrupted for another's whims is on my hands. What lies next in store for me I know naught, but redemption is what I seek.

And I will have it in the end, for there is little that can keep me from my wishes or my duties. Not even death.


End file.
